Manny Torres Gimenez is one of the new breed of chefs who cook from the heart and aren't deterred by inadequate kitchens and inferior dining amenities. He earned a cult following creating arepas and a $20 four-course tasting menu at Mr. Pollo in the Mission, but in January he "upgraded" to a space in the same block that's three times as large - Roxy's Cafe.

At Roxy's he offers a $25 chef's choice menu; a $75 10-course tasting menu that includes Asian, Italian and South American flavors from his native Venezuela; and a short a la carte menu.

Before going out on his own, Gimenez worked at SPQR, Coi and Quince, and those influences are evident in what he ladles into his chipped soup bowls and arranges on his oversize white plates.

Roxy's interior, however, has nothing in common with any of those high-end restaurants. Polyester white curtains hang from a bowed wire at the storefront windows; drapes divide a row of rickety dining tables from the open kitchen and another group of tables. Garish red sponged paint we haven't seen since the 1980s covers several walls. Lime green completes the look, a combination that calls to mind a Tim Burton Christmas nightmare.

Paper napkins

Each table is set with tinny flatware and two thin paper napkins. The waiter explains that the second napkin is to leave on the table for a clean place to put the flatware between courses because, with just one server and a limited staff, utensils are not changed out.

The restaurant doesn't yet have a license to serve alcohol, so if you want wine, you'll need to bring your own; the good part is there's no corkage fee, and stemmed glassware is provided. It's best to pay cash, because if you pay with a credit card, there's a 3 percent fee. And if you want to make reservations, they are accepted only by texting the phone number.

It's a perfect confluence of factors to attract Mission hipsters, but Gimenez's cooking is luring a wider range of diners.

Cooking challenges

His passion cuts through even major limitations, such as the lack of a kitchen exhaust hood. That means all the cooking is done on an induction burner.

Not every dish comes together flawlessly, but Gimenez has enough winners that people will come back for more.

One night dinner began with a complimentary appetizer that looked like an oversize marble of avocado. A cut into the creamy green flesh revealed seasoned ahi sashimi in the middle. It was a brilliant combination.

On my first visit, I ordered the $25 menu without knowing what would be served. The menu is left up to the chef after the waiter asks diners about any food allergies or dislikes.

We nearly jumped out of our chairs when we heard the industrial grinding whirl of what turned out to be a blender, frothing up individual portions of the first course - arugula soup. The chef, dressed in a dark shirt and bow tie, brought out the deep-sided orange bowls, describing the slightly bitter soup as potato-based mixed with greens he got that morning at the farmers' market, topped with fried plantain chips.

On another visit, the soup was a light cream of spinach topped with swirls of creme fraiche, a chop of the first-of-the-season asparagus, and orange calendula flower petals.

Latin heritage

The second course is salad - separate piles of market greens interspersed with sections of tangerines, cubes of dragon fruit, coins of kumquats, cucumber and jicama rounds, and tiny mounds of bee pollen. Our waiter said those help build the immune system and prevent allergies.

Salad is generally followed by two pasta courses. On one visit, the first was butternut squash ravioli topped with a sage-pancetta brown butter sauce and a scattering of pea shoots and Parmesan cheese.

Gimenez's Latin heritage comes out in the gnocchi, which substitutes yuca for potato, and has a soft, slightly chewy and starchy texture; smothered in mushrooms, it's hard to tell the difference.

At another dinner, he made chitarra from sweet plantains and covered it in a carbonara-like sauce with crisp bits of chorizo. After we finished, the waiter brought out a dusty wooden box strung with dozens of musical instrument strings, explaining how the pasta is made and got its name. Education seems to be part of the package at Roxy's.

Being a little hungry after the four courses - the portions aren't large - I also ordered the ice cream ($10). The three scoops included mayacura, a South American passion fruit with a tart edge; the chef's invention with cornflower, lemongrass, lavender and rose, surrounded by marinated red currants about the size of cranberries; and a thick French vanilla custard ice cream.

Gimenez's real talent is on display with the 10-course menu. After the first three courses - a kumamoto oyster with pickled ginger and onions on a nest of seaweed; maguro sushi with an accent of finger lime; and a hamachi hand roll accented with green tea powder and yuzu - you think you're in a Japanese restaurant.

The tenor changed with a slightly different version of the arugula soup we had on the first visit, followed by a similar salad and the sweet plantain pasta. He followed that with the yuca gnocchi and short ribs that have been grilled, smoked and slowly braised for 48 hours.

Sweet tastes

Dessert was a collection of small tastes on the same plate: a spoon of the passion fruit sorbet, a sweet cheese-filled arepa, rich coffee custard ice cream on crumbled amaretti, and a quartered strawberry standing at attention in a pool of creme anglaise.

It's an eclectic menu, but an interesting journey. Most people come out praising the food, and as Gimenez smiles warmly at the compliments, the tinny flatware, flimsy paper and shaky tables don't seem to matter.

Prices are based on main courses. When entrees fall between these categories, the prices of appetizers help determine the dollar ratings. Chronicle critics make every attempt to remain anonymous. All meals are paid for by The Chronicle. Star ratings are based on a minimum of three visits. Ratings are updated continually based on at least one revisit.